Chapter 15
Aiden
The Salt Circle is at the perfect level of busy without being too jam-packed, and as a part-owner, I should be really happy about that.
On one level, I am, definitely.
The crowd, however, means that it’s hard for me to keep track of who is coming through the door.
I like to greet everyone, make sure everyone is having a good time, the food is good, the beer is better—this is my business, and I am damn proud of it and more than happy to be Mr. Personality when I’m here.
Usually.
Tonight? Tonight, I’m distracted.
Every time I hear the door open, my heart rate picks up.
I am excited to see Sylvie.
Jack, who’s mostly mingling with me—though this is not the part of our business where he shines—keeps arching an eyebrow at me.
“What?” I finally ask him, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“You keep looking at the door,” he says, a smirk on his smug face. “It’s like you’re waiting to see someone.”
“I’m just curious how the site I helped her with is working.” I shrug. “What can I say? I’m invested in her.” I pause. “Her business. You know how I get when I have an idea.”
“Uh-huh.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re invested in her business.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I recommended Cara to her. You know, the graphic designer? You know how that is.”
“Right.” He stretches the word out too long.
I ignore him. Jack isn’t the kind of guy to give a shit if a contractor he recommended doesn’t work out. Me, on the other hand?
It will bother the fuck out of me if I recommend someone who ends up ghosting a friend or delivering a subpar product.
So yeah, I’m invested.
That’s all.
Em’s trademark boisterous laugh rings out as the door closes again, and sure enough, Jack’s larger than life wife has swept into the restaurant.
Her red hair’s longer and curlier than ever, probably thanks to the drizzly day outside, but it fits her wild personality perfectly.
Tara and Ward stand next to her, and Tara gives me a little wave and a knowing look that has me shifting uncomfortably.
I glance around them, waiting for Sylvie’s golden blonde head to appear behind Ward, or behind the cloud of Em’s ginger curls.
But there’s no sign of our newest shopkeep.
I paste a smile on my face, happy to see everyone else. She’s busy; I know how much she has on her plate.
“Over here,” I yell. Needlessly, considering Jack’s already gathering the group up and leading them to the corner table we asked the hostess to hold for us.
“Hey,” Tara says with a smile, Ward giving me the patented sup-bro chin jerk, and Em squeals, wrapping me in a huge hug.
“Aiden, you big goober, how are you today?”
“Em, you literally saw me last week,” I say with a laugh. “I’m good, though.”
“Of course you are, you giant ray of sunshine.” She punches me playfully in the ribs as Jack tucks her back into his side. “What’s this I hear about the new love of your life?”
“I did get a new lure to test in your stocked pond, I’m so glad you asked. It’s a top-spin, and I really think the bass are going to go ham over it. As far as it being the love of my life, jury’s still out.”
Em rolls her eyes dramatically as Jack pulls her into the booth next to him, and one of the waiters comes over, bringing our favorite appetizers to share.
Perks of owning the place.
Fried pickles, a steaming tray of loaded potato skins, a charcuterie board for the girls, and a fig and honey flatbread all jockey for space among the plates.
“We’re going to each have the seasonal flight,” I tell him over the noise of my friends all laughing and joking. “Thanks, man.”
He nods, immediately setting off for the bar.
“Seasonal fliiiiight,” Tara says, arms wide as she pretends to be an airplane. Ward grins at her, and they’re so clearly happy and in love that it almost makes me jealous.
My eyes skip to the door again, looking for blonde hair.
“I’m shocked Aiden’s not already yelling about all the tasting notes in the different seasonal beers,” Tara says, and there’s a knowing glint to her expression that has me rolling my eyes.
I place my hands wide on the tabletop, giving her my best brewer-of-the-year smile. “I would be more than happy to give you all the entire spiel, but I find that it might work best if you sample each as I go.”
“Uh-huh,” Ward says, and Tara elbows him.
“You wouldn’t happen to be waiting for a certain new bookstore owner to show up?”
“Well, of course, it would make the most sense to wait until our entire party is seated to regale you with the story of the pumpkin sourcing for The Salt Circle’s most festive October flavor yet.”
That earns a few chuckles, even Jack giving me a slight smile.
“How’s your aunt, Tara?” I ask her.
I don’t mind being the center of attention, not at all—but I don’t want them getting the wrong idea about how I feel about Sylvie.
That wouldn’t be fair to our town’s new bookstore owner, after all. She needs friends and support, not gossip about her love life. No matter how well-meaning Em and Tara might be, they’re both still in the honeymoon phases of their respective marriages and want everyone else to couple up, too.
That’s fine.
“She’s good. Did I tell you that her rental property went viral?”
“The Pussy Palace deserves it all,” Em says loudly. “Brilliant marketing. Very niche.”
“The wall of monster dildos going viral apparently has her sold out for the next six months, though she had to add a few waivers to the rental agreement about their usage.”
I grimace. “Not sure I want to know much more.”
“Don’t be a prude,” Em tells me.
“Not wanting to hear the details about what goes on in Tara’s aunt Tilly’s famous monster dildo pussy palace doesn’t make him a prude, Em,” Jack says, a laugh following that statement.
“Monster dildo pussy palace,” a voice at my elbow repeats slowly, disbelief coloring each syllable.
My heart stutters. With surprise, obviously.
“I didn’t see you there,” I say softly.
Sylvie stares up at me with her wide grey-blue eyes, her blonde hair damp and slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck. A drop of water sits on her cheekbone, and I brush it off with my thumb before I realize my hand’s moving.
“You made it!” Tara exclaims, and she leaps out of her chair to give Sylvie a hug.
Apparently, the two women really hit it off because I don’t think Tara’s ever given me a hug.
Jamming my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her again, I glance back at everyone else. Jack’s watching me like a hawk, and Em’s expression is thoughtful as she studies Sylvie.
Whatever the redhead’s thinking must not be bad because she’s on her feet a second later.
“I’m Em,” she says, and instead of shaking her hand, she also gives Sylvie a big hug. “I’m so happy to meet you. Tara’s so happy to have another friendly face downtown, and from everything she’s told me, I think you’re going to legit be our new best friend.”
“Oh,” Sylvie says, her mouth staying a round “o” of surprise at Em’s enthusiasm. “You are a witch, too, huh? Prudence said there would be more than just Tara.”
Em and Tara share a look, and I shove a potato skin in my mouth to keep from saying something stupid.
For one, I have no idea who Prudence is, and I should only be feeling happy for the fact that Sylvie’s being accepted whole-heartedly by two of the best women I know.
“You know what? I have to powder my nose,” Em declares awkwardly. “And I need help with it because I, uh, forgot my powder at home.”
“I got you,” Tara tells her. “We’ll powder Sylvie’s nose, too.”
Sylvie touches her nose. “Do I have a zit?”
She’s so wide-eyed and cute that I nearly choke on the potato laughing.
“No, you’re coming with us, though,” Tara tells her firmly, and with that, they steer Sylvie away from the table and to the bathrooms.
“Well, she seems nice,” Jack says noncommittally as the girls practically flee.
“Tara likes her a lot already,” Ward rumbles.
“You know they’re going to go talk about you, right?” Jack asks me.
“No way.” I stretch, uncomfortable. “They’re powdering noses or whatever.”
“You’re an idiot,” Jack tells me.
“They’re probably just going to come up with some spells to keep the ghosts around here out of their hair.” Ward dips a fried pickle into the ranch and I stare at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
Ward doesn’t respond, just keeps eating pickles.
Right.
“Here’s the first of your seasonal flights,” the waiter says.
I hardly pay attention to the expert way he sets the perfectly poured flights on the table.
“You aren’t saying you actually believe in the ghost stories around here,” I finally ask Ward, not sure if he’s joking or not. He’s hard to get a read on, but surely he’s joking.
“Seeing is believing,” Ward answers cryptically.
Which clears absolutely nothing up.
Unless he’s saying he’s seen a ghost, in which case, he really should get his carbon monoxide levels tested in his house.
“I’ve told you about all the weird shit that happens up at Em’s hotel,” Jack says.
“Yeah, but…” I trail off, trying to suss them out. They’ve gotta be pranking me.
Instead of playing into their hands, I eat another bacon, green onion and cheese covered potato skin.